Its gone 2am, i've been in bed for almost an hour and i have to be up for work in the morning. Yet my brain has other ideas. Its like as soon as i switch off the lights, the simpleton operating the contols in my noggin starts prattling about nowt much in particular.
I didn't help myself reading my horoscope. Even though every sensible part of me (yes, it does exist somewhere) tell me its poppycock, I still check them. And its opened a horrid can of worms. Tonight my brain has gone with the philosophical dilemna of 'do i actually feel such or such a way, or do i think i feel that way cos i should or cos i want to?' indeed, the total emotional numbing effect of medication the last 9 months has not helped, having decided last week I can no longer be fucked drugging away the symptoms of a much bigger problem. Yeah, screw you HSE, I'm having my own revolution. But seriously, i think maybe going cold turkey from the happy tablets mighn't have been totally wise, given my tears at World's Strictest Parents, sick kitties and Florence's Machine and Pink's saddest songs. Gonna have to kart around a multipack of kleenex at this rate.
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